


Wrong

by AmberAkasha



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Rare Pairings, Secret Relationship, musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmberAkasha/pseuds/AmberAkasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all assumed he was obsessed with Malfoy.<br/>He didn't mind. It gave him a convenient excuse to sneak off to see Marcus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> So... I may have been reading too many fanfics lately. And I'm kind of into Marcus/Harry, because Marcus may be ugly and cruel sometimes, but he's strong, and a Slytherin, and I think Harry needs that.

Harry turned back to his potions essay, ignoring Ron and Hermione arguing with practiced ease. He needed to get this done before History was over, because there was no way he'd get to finish it during transfiguration, and during lunch… well, he was supposed to follow Malfoy during lunch. That's not what he planned on doing, but his friends thought so and they had gotten fed up with it already, which meant he could sneak away with them none the wiser. It was funny, in a way, how everybody just assumed things about him, how easy they were to distract from what he was really doing.

 

They all assumed he was obsessed with Malfoy. He didn't mind. It gave him a convenient excuse to sneak off to see Marcus.

 

But sometimes it bothered him, that of all people, it had to be Malfoy they thought he was into. Malfoy, of all people, really. White-blond, delicate, perfect porcelain features, and so goddamn boring. No personality, you see, no real strength. He was a child playing adult, and Harry, well, he did not have time for that.

 

They didn't really think that, of course not, except maybe Hermione sometimes, in the back of her mind, when the dark had fallen over the castle like a mantle and she laid awake in bed, her million dollar brain still furiously working because sometimes she just couldn't turn it _off_ , when she wondered about him and Cho and the way his eyes always seemed to follow Malfoy around, the way they zeroed in the Sytherin crest in someone's robes faster than on the snitch.

 

But for the most part, they just thought he needed the challenge, craved to have an enemy to fight. They thought he was paranoid –he'd really love to explain that it isn't really paranoia when they are out to get you, but it just didn't seem that important anymore, and even if he did explain he didn't think they'd get it. They had been with him during some of his so-called adventures, but he didn't fool himself into thinking that was enough to make them _understand_.

 

They didn't realize his instincts weren't anything new, that they had made their home in him during his muggle life and never left. That scanning the room for threats, identifying enemies and their positions in the room before settling wasn't anything new. He'd had to know where Dudley and all the members of his little band of bullies were if he wanted to avoid a beating, and staying just slightly out of reach from Vernon was simply good sense. He'd learned early. And Ron and Hermione, as much as they tried, hadn't yet. They still trusted too easily, became too comfortable, expected too much of a world that, while not out to get them, certainly wasn't looking to make them any favors. They were sheltered still, despite everything they had gone through, and that meant they couldn't relate. It was all right. Harry didn't either. He wasn't bitter over their naivety, not yet, just a bit annoyed. It irritated him sometimes, and he might have felt envious once, back when he was still too young to understand that this _awareness_ was something they would all have to live with someday. There was a war coming, and he couldn't begrudge his friends their innocence, not when it was going to be such a short-lived one.

 

But it made him value his new friend more, because he actually understood, and the thought of not having to explain himself and his instincts and his distrust made him want to dance a little jig sometimes. Most of the time, however, it just made him more comfortable, relaxed. It eased some of the tension he always carried around. Add in the guy's lack of expectations of Harry doing anything –killing Voldemort, joining him, dropping dead, winning the cup, anything, because for some reason every-fucking-body seemed to expect _something_ from him and it was driving him nuts- and he could just unwind, relax and be himself.

 

He wasn't in love with him, and he was pretty sure Marcus felt the same. But they could be quiet, and calm, and fuck from time to time, and that was all he was looking for.


End file.
